


Movement In The Dark

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: F/M, Ghost Sex, Pregnancy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 10:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: The child was all she had left of Thomas besides her memories and Allerdale Hall. There was no more putting off her responsibility to the estate, avoiding the memory of her final day there.





	Movement In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Heather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather/gifts).



Edith would have much rather stayed far away from Allerdale Hall, but she was its mistress in the wake of Thomas and Lucille's deaths. There was only so much that she could do from afar and by missive, and ultimately, she had to return to that dreadful place. It still figured in her dreams, snow filtering down through the hole in the ceiling, the mournful echoes of lost voices and the ghosts within the walls. Not all of them were frightening, because Thomas was there. His gaze burned, a palpable thing on her skin. Sometimes, she could still feel his touch even wide awake, even when she knew for a fact that it wasn't his ghost.

It didn't help when their child moved, pressing into her, pushing at her from the inside out. The movement reminded her of the touch of ghosts, but it was internal now, and not so easy to discard.

Allerdale Hall looked much the same as she remembered it in all its decaying glory. She had essentially been alone for the trip, given that her lady's maid was so quiet that others forgot she was even there. Lily was excellent with hair and dress, was very observant, and loyal to Edith to a fault. She'd never planned on having a maid with her, but as she entered her second trimester of pregnancy, she felt ungainly and out of sorts. Having Lily made her feel a bit safer, since Lily could send for a doctor if something happened to her.

The child was all she had left of Thomas besides her memories and Allerdale Hall. There was no more putting off her responsibility to the estate, avoiding the memory of her final day there.

Lily was obviously disapproving of the decay, so Edith didn't even tell her that more of the roof had caved in over the Great Hall. Winter had been especially cold and cruel, and the hall hadn't taken it well. Lily was glad their visit hadn't been in the winter, but still sniffed disdainfully at the suite Edith had once shared with Thomas. "Far too drafty, miss," Lily said, looking around. "Such a waste of firewood to stay warm in here. Rich folk haven't got a lick of sense."

Edith shot her an amused look, knowing full well that Lily was in her employ because her last employer had been jealous of her, not because she was unskilled. "I am quite wealthy myself, you realize, even if it's vulgar to discuss money."

"Like I said," Lily replied with a grin, "not a lick of sense."

"You're hardly incorrect," Edith laughed. The laughter dried up after she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She was just starting to show beyond the fashion of the time. The shadows behind her almost looked like Thomas as she had last seen him, declaring his love for her. His love for Lucille had been unnatural, but that ultimately had been his weakness. He loved too unwisely and too well, and trust the wrong people to do right by him.

The hair at the back of her neck stirred as if being caressed.

"I don't like this place, miss. Don't blame you none for not coming back sooner. Let's do this right quick and then go home, yeah?"

Edith grinned at her. "So New York is finally home?"

Lily scowled, then laughed. "More'n here, for sure. But London'll be me first home always."

"Fair enough. You'll be next door."

"Ugh. So cold and awful in that room," Lily commented. "Like it's got no roof in it."

That had been Lucille's room. As sumptuous as the belongings were, Edith couldn't blame her for feeling that way about it.

"If it's that bad, you can switch rooms."

Visibly relieved, Lily nodded. "I'll do that."

As Lily left her in her suite, Edith was confronted by memories. This had been her bedroom suite, one of the places where she had spent a considerable amount of time at Allerdale Hall. Thomas had been very correct and gentlemanly in his courtship, though she had felt a simmering heat in his gaze when he looked at her or touched her hand. All very proper, but there was a dangerous edge to it. During the sea voyage to England, Thomas had refrained from exercising his husband's rights immediately. He cradled her in his arms, kissing her everywhere and running his fingers through her hair. "Like sweet silk," he murmured before claiming her mouth in a kiss. It was possessive, but not horribly so, and one that Edith had returned in kind. His hands freely roamed across her bared skin, and his fingers sought out the cleft between her legs. She had been dimly aware of such things prior to her marriage, but Thomas knew exactly how to touch her and kiss her to get her slick and wet, to drag his fingers through the dampness to find that tender bud that felt like exquisite torture as he rubbed it.

Edith's breath caught, and she sat on the edge of the bed in the suite. He had done the same here, using his fingers to give her sweet release, and then he had brought his mouth where his fingers had been. He lapped at her as a cat did with a bowl of cream, making her clutch a pillow to her mouth to muffle her cries of pleasure. It was so much, too much and not enough at once, his tongue curling deeply inside of her and then licking at that nubbin with a determination that took her breath away.

She was growing wet just thinking about it, and she still craved the way he had felt inside her when they finally made love. Thomas had filled her completely, and it had felt _right_ in a way she had no words to explain. All her losses at that point had seemed like payment in advance for such pleasures, for the feel of him inside her as he moved, his gaze burning into her. His mouth, his lovely mouth, caressed her breasts and sucked at her nipples as if he was a baby, and it stirred her desire further.

"I will give you whatever I have," Thomas had told her in their berth on the ship arriving in England. "Whatever is mine is yours," he promised, nibbling at her earlobe. "Now and forever."

He had always known the plan was to kill his brides. He had felt powerless to stop it, so he had remained complicit in Lucille's schemes.

Love was all well and good, but it wasn't enough.

Sighing, Edith found herself stroking the dusty coverlet as if it was Thomas himself. It almost felt like his skin, smooth and chilled in the Allerdale air, and she recalled the way her hands had cupped his buttocks to hold him deeper inside of her, the play of his muscles in his back as he moved above her. She had gotten braver with him, clambered right on top of his sprawled body, full of laughter, and rocked her way to her pleasures with his thick cock inside her. It had been so deliciously wicked, and Thomas's eyes had been bright with love.

Even when she started to fall ill from the poison, he hadn't been so ready to give her up. He had curled up beside her in the bed in the afternoons when she should have been napping, caressing her through the thin fabric of her day gowns. Her breath would catch and she shivered, clutching his jacket. It had felt as though her head was spinning, that she was falling even when lying down, but the dizziness was nothing next to the exquisite feel of his mouth on hers, of his body pressed close. Then his clever fingers would slide down her flat belly, would press into her through the dress. It was a tease, a way to taunt her a little even in her weakness, to get her to beg for more before he drew up her skirts and ran his fingers up her thigh.

"Dearest, I wouldn't harm you for all the world," he whispered. Later, she realized it as truth, but he wouldn't stop his sister from harming her.

"If I felt stronger, I would take you in my arms and show you how I feel," Edith had promised, running her fingers over his lips. So soft and sensual, perfect against the tenderest parts of her. "I could return your favors," she said, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. "I could take you into my mouth, taste you and make you feel even a little of the passion you give me."

He laughed in delight and kissed her thoroughly. "Oh, Edith. I know you well enough to know that it's true, and that you would unman me in moments if I let you."

Thomas had gotten to know her very well indeed. He knew how to make her body sing, even as weak and exhausted as she was, and she grinned at him when lying spent on the bed.

She had pulled at his clothes and at least gripped his cock in her hands, laughing a little as he gasped and ended the kiss. "There's still this, my darling."

"I'd rather be inside you than inside your hand," he had murmured.

"I'm strong enough to play the quiet miss they all think you married," she replied with a smile, drawing up her nightgown with her free hand. "Don't you think?"

In retrospect, he had always been weak to the whims of the women he loved.

Edith had welcomed his weight on top of her, the feel of his clothes pressed against hers. It was so very decadent, a debauched feeling she hadn't thought she would enjoy. But there was her husband above her, cock inside her, clothes loosened hurriedly to allow the frantic coupling. "I love you so much," he whispered, eyes falling closed as he threw his head back. He panted, finding his pleasure in her body even as she found pleasure in his. She ran her hands across his skin beneath his clothes, rumpling them terribly, and pulled him in deeper, making his thrusts harder. Leaning upward as best as she could, she nipped at his throat with her lips and teeth. It was enough sensation to make him cry out and spill inside her.

They'd laughed a little at his moue of dismay. "I did say you'd unman me," he'd grumbled next to her ear, fingers tangled in her hair.

"And in the length of time it would take for your man to return," she'd teased him, "you could pleasure me a thousand times over."

Thomas had laughed harder at that, holding her even tighter. "You're a jewel," he said, showering her face in kisses. "An absolute gem."

The memory made Edith smile now, and she brought her fingers to her lips. A slight shiver rolled through her, almost a chill against her skin. Perhaps Lily had the right of it, and she shouldn't actually stay in this room anymore. It had been hers and Thomas', their sanctuary against Lucille, even if she hadn't known it as such in that time. Yes, she would move to a warmer room as well, protect her growing child against the chill of the air.

When she stood and turned around to exit the room, Thomas was there.

Edith's breath caught as he came closer to her, that same loving yet mournful expression on his face that she remembered. He reached for her, hesitantly, as if he expected her to pull away from him. Perhaps she should have, but she had loved him, too.

His touch was cold, as all touch from the dead was, and the chill rolled through her again. That and the adrenaline spike woke their child, and Thomas looked down at the swell of her belly. "I'm sorry I could only give you one child. We'd talked about having so many."

"And you'd meant it," she murmured, not sure of anything anymore.

"Of course," he said, looking up at her as his hands fell to her belly. He could pass right through her if he wanted to, but he was trying so hard to touch her, to be in the same space that she was. When he looked up at her, Edith almost thought he looked real, as if he was standing in front of her with flesh and blood. "I love you still," he murmured. "Nothing will ever change that."

Edith touched his face, though her fingers went through his cheek. "I have missed you."

Thomas smiled, wider and more like the ones he gave her when courting her than when they lived together in this house. "I have most certainly missed you, too."

He leaned down to kiss her, and to Edith's surprise he felt _solid._ As if he truly had flesh, as if he had never died at all.

"How is this possible?" Edith whispered.

"This place holds many memories," Thomas said, his hands continuing to run over her body tenderly. "I used to think it had a will of its own, that it was as alive as we were. And I don't think it likes to be lonely."

"I don't think I can stay," Edith told him, her shiver this time associated with fear.

"For now you can," he said, smiling at her again. "As if we were first married," he began, pulling at the ribbons and buttons on her dress. "I dreamed of you."

"Can ghosts dream?" Edith blurted, eyes widening slightly.

Thomas laughed, that same delighted sound she had remembered. "More clearly than the living do."

Reaching to touch his arm, this time Edith's hand didn't go through it. "Is this just a dream, perhaps?"

"In this moment, I'm as real as you are."

"Then show me," Edith said, looking at him intently. "Prove to me what you say, and show me how you truly feel about me."

Being dead seemed to agree with him. Or perhaps, now that he was dead and didn't have to worry about propriety or finances any longer, he could be his true self. His kiss was different now from the ones she remembered, less hesitant and gentle. There was passion there, nothing held back. 

He was cold, so cold, but felt solid as he had been in life. She tried to tell herself it was the open roof and the decaying walls that made him so cold, that the past several months had only been a terrible nightmare. He was kissing her, the laces and tapes of her dress were being undone, and her skin was exposed to the chill of the air around them as well. But it didn't matter because she felt as though she was burning from the inside out, as if she had heat enough for them both. His tongue was in her mouth, his hands on her breasts, and she was pulling off his ghostly clothes as if they were real. She could feel the texture of them, the slight wear and fray at the edges that he once tried to conceal from her.

The fire inside her raged hotter, and she could feel the slick wetness growing between her thighs. Feeling bold, she pulled one of his hands from her breast to between her thighs, making him smile against her mouth. "This may not be our only night together," he murmured.

"But if it is, make it count."

"Most certainly."

His fingers slid inside her, a shock of cold against her fevered flesh, but it didn't dull her desire. If anything, the sensation made her shiver and want him more. Edith ran her hands over his cold skin, finding it much the way she had remembered it. The curve and lines of muscle beneath the ghostly skin, the strength he kept hidden from everyone, even himself.

Edith gasped at the shock of pleasure his fingers evoked, and she curled around him to nip at his neck. She missed him, she loved him, she resented being used. Thomas used his clever fingers and mouth on her, made her body quiver and tighten, and their child turn and wake again. She rocked against his fingers, pulled him closer and closed one hand around his chilled cock. It was erect, ready for her, and she could feel the moist tip as she palmed him. Riding his hand until the pleasure broke over her in waves, Edith stifled her cries by burying her face in his neck. Lily couldn't know about this, not ever. She'd never understand it, not when Edith didn't really understand how this was happening.

He worked her up again with his fingers, capturing her mouth in a torrid kiss that took her breath away. She rocked against him, his cock tight in her fist and making him croon into her lips. Eventually there was that sticky wetness on her hand, cold on her skin, and she pulled away long enough to look down.

"Even in death, you still unman me too soon," Thomas told her with a smile.

She grinned at him, putting a hand to her mouth to smother her laughter. "However shall you make it up to me?" she asked, eyes alight with amusement.

Thomas helped position the pillows on the bed so she could be comfortable, even with the swell of their child between them. When he disappeared between her thighs, licking and touching and sucking on her slick flesh, she put her fist to her mouth to muffle her cries of pleasure. His tongue and breath were cold, so cold, but the movement mattered more, the sensation he gave her, and the undulating waves that rolled through her as he licked into the very center of her. She moaned, throaty and passionate, letting her eyes fall shut. This was like her memories, her dreams of him. His fingers and tongue and intent, the desire to have her reach her pleasure before he did, to have her so slicked with her own juices that there was no resistance whatsoever when he pushed into her. 

Edith muffled her moans with a pillow when he slid into her, cold against her heat, pleasure shooting through her almost instantly. "Yes, Thomas," she whimpered, but he understood her anyway. His hands were on her hips, balancing her as he fucked into her in earnest, an intense need clear in his eyes. She cried out, the pleasure so intense she didn't care anymore if Lily could hear, if they heard her all way to the village. She needed this, needed _him,_ needed the feel of his cock where she ached to be touched, needed to be loved and cherished and honored and wanted—

She must have fainted when she came. She was positioned on the bed again, lying on her side just how the doctors had told her she should sleep to support her growing belly. Thomas laid beside her, his cold chest feeling so solid next to her back. It was growing dark as he caressed her, stroking her body gently. "You'll stay here with me, of course," he murmured, pressing his lips to her shoulder. She turned her head to look at him, a slight frown on her face. She opened her mouth to tell him that hadn't been planning to stay long, not really, not with her memories of this place—

But then he smiled at her, that bright and shining one he had always saved just for her. Thomas had never looked at Lucille that way as far as she knew, and Edith held onto that thought tightly.

"I feel more alive with you here," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her lips. His hands found hers, and they linked fingers tightly. "Stay with me and be my wife, Edith. There's no one here that will harm you, I promise."

Was that true? Was it really? Edith suddenly wanted it to be so. "But Lucille..."

"Please."

Edith let her body relax into his. What harm could a ghost do, really? This was her Thomas, hers, and it was only fair to have the life she should have lived from the first.

"All right, Thomas," she murmured, twisting in his arms so that she could kiss his lips. They didn't feel so cold in that moment, and she smiled against them. "I'll stay."

After all, Edith knew how to ignore the shadows if she had to.


End file.
